Escaping to Acceptance
by Diva Actress
Summary: Everyone wants to be accepted. She was not running away, but running to. Please read and review. OCs involved. Post RENT. Rated M for Mature content not suitable to younger viewers.
1. Prologue

She ran; her long strawberry hair flying behind her. She didn't know her final destination. She just knew she needed out, needed an escape, and her so called friends and foster family could not give her either. She was alone, in every sense of the word. She had no allies, and she did not know who her enemies were. Her feet pounded the pavement in the semi-upper class neighborhood. She had never belonged with the Jones family. She was too "urban," too… "out there" for the classy community. She ran, not necessarily away, but more in search of. In search of acceptance. Suddenly, she stopped, realization hitting her like a strike of lightning in a storm.

New York City; the one place where everyone is accepted, because everyone is an outcast. The place for artists and business people, for hopefuls and cynics. That, is a place she could call home. A place she would call home. She began running again.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One- Looking for Wisdom in All the Wrong Places

Roger sat, his guitar cradled in his lap. He had been working most of the afternoon on a new song. It had taken him almost a full year to start playing again after Mimi's near-death experience, as he had been too afraid to leave her side long enough to get his guitar. It was only at Mimi's refusal to speak to him till his fingers were calloused again that made him pluck out a few songs, and then a few more.

Mimi slept on the couch, a book opened and resting upon her stomach. She was still as thin as she had been, still as beautiful, and still very much in love with Roger, a sentiment she knew was returned. She was twenty-three now. Three years had passed since that fateful night when she had returned from seeing Angel in that warm, white tunnel, before being turned away. She still had life to live, and it was her full intent to live it.

Mark sat at the table, the Village Voice splayed open in front of him. His camera was in its bag, which hung from the chair next to him. He continued his refusal to work for Buzzline. He was not a sellout, and had hated ever giving anyone the chance to peg him as such. He made a decent living selling footage to real news stations when the opportunity presented itself, otherwise he filmed and made do with what that got him.

Collins was…somewhere, though none knew for sure, and they were okay with that. Anymore, Collins was growing restless of the city. They figured that it would not be too much longer before he left again. The absence would be temporary, as always, but he would still be gone.

Mimi stirred in her sleep. Roger looked over from his guitar, as her book fell to the floor, but Mimi did not awake. Roger smiled at the sleeping beauty. They both knew death loomed over them, ready to steal them away before either could blink, but they didn't let that affect their love, their devotion, their passion. Seeing she would not wake, at least not now, Roger turned his attentions back to the Fender nestled in his crossed legs and the notebook beside him.

Mark folded the Voice and tossed it aside. He sighed. The news today was grim, it almost always was anymore. "I'm going to go out for a bit," he said, winding his scarf about his neck. "Don't forget to take your,"

"AZT," Roger finished. "I won't. I haven't in years." Roger hadn't even looked up.

Mark smiled, before he strode to the door. He didn't know just exactly where he was going, perhaps out of the city even. He was trying to do more than film the homeless and beggars that littered the street like yesterday's newspaper. He walked to the subway, smiling as he remembered the performance that Collins had put that Christmas, when Angel was still with him. Her time had been cut so short, especially her time with Collins. He turned back and shouldered his camera bag, before waving to an unobservant Roger.

* * *

She had to stop. She had let her feet pound against the pavement, propelling herself away, for as long as she could. Now she could not breathe, and could barely stand. She had not gotten as far as she had hoped to. She dug out the little change she had in her pocket. Barely enough for a subway ticket, but still enough. She smiled breathlessly. She trudged to the stairs that led to what she hoped would be the place she could call home.

Finding a seat, she collapsed into it. She swept her hair up into a messy bun atop her head, hoping that it would help her to cool off. It worked, if only a little. She had nothing. Wrong, she had the clothes on her back and this hair tie. Her jeans were ripped, and her t-shirt was grungy, and clung to her with sweat. She cursed herself for not thinking to bring along any other clothes.

She looked around the compartment. There was a woman in a business suit, texting; a couple of boys with a basketball; a student trying to focus on her studies; and a blonde haired man with a striped scarf about his neck, despite the warm of the September day. None of them seemed to be paying attention to her, or anyone else for that matter. She sighed, she was better off not being noticed.

Except she was.

That was the end of Chapter one. I hope you like it. I have only a vague idea where this is going, and merely am writing as the muses move me. None of my stories bear a disclaimer. THEY ARE FANFICTIONS, therefore, are not works by the original author. Please leave a review with constructive criticism. I would love to hear from you.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two- Unforgotten Past

How could he not notice her? How she was out of breath, as though she had been running for her life. How her eyes surveyed everyone that was with her in the subway car. How sweat beaded her face and neck. How she piled her hair atop her head, as though trying to gain relief from uncovering her neck. How she did not seem anywhere near being at ease.

He wondered at her destination. Wondered where this young girl was headed, and where she had come from. He wondered if he should speak up, or keep his silence. Instinctively he reached for his camera bag. He fought the urge to just capture a short viewing of this girl who could be no older than fifteen. He appeared to be lost in thoughts when she glanced his way, and in truth, he was. In his mind he was arguing as to whether or not he should offer to help her.

Mark followed, acting as though her stop was also his. She moved swiftly through the throngs of people milling about. Finally, once they were more alone, and Mark could no longer follow in secret, he sped up, and caught her arm. She rounded on him quickly, and caught his chin with her balled up left fist. Mark grabbed at his jaw, but still held her upper right shoulder loosely. "Whoa," Mark pleaded. "I'm Mark, and I promise I won't hurt you. You just looked like you could use some help."

"I hardly think I am in need of that kind of help, and even if I were, I hardly think you would be the one to give it to me," she retorted. Mark chuckled, released her arm and pulled out his wallet.

"Honestly," he said, handing her his ID. "I'm Mark Cohen. I live in Alphabet City. I just thought you might need some help, finding your way, or maybe a place to stay." He took his ID back after she had studied it briefly. He smiled, waiting for her response.

"I'm Claire." She looked him from head to toe. "Why are you offering to help?"

Mark's smile widened. "First things first, where are you headed?"

"I'm not really. Just, looking for somewhere to call home. I guess I figured I would try New York City. It's said to be where everyone is an outcast, so everyone is accepted. Why are you offering to help?"

Mark chuckled. "A city of outcasts indeed." He shifted his camera bag to his other shoulder. "How about we go get a bite to eat?"

Claire was going to refuse, it showed in her eyes, until her stomach let out a low rumbling. Mark smiled again, "Come on, I know a great little place, I think you'll like."

* * *

The Life Café. Mark knew he was supposed to meet the rest of the Boho gang there for dinner in a little more than an hour. He would be early, but he would be able to find out more about Claire in their time alone he hoped. He bought them both subway tickets, and they rode in silence, Claire still very much on edge. Mark couldn't hold back a smile, hoping she would come to trust him sooner rather than later.

They reached the Life earlier than Mark figured, and bought a basket of fries for them to munch on while they waited. "Claire, um, how old are you?" Mark asked awkwardly.

Claire paled. "Um…I'm…How old are you?"

Mark laughed. "I'm twenty-eight. And you?"

"I'm sixteen," Claire mumbled resentfully. She had hoped to be able to avoid telling anyone her true age.

"And where are you from?"

"Where are you from? I don't answer, until I know the same."

"Scarsdale. You?"

"Most recently from Waldo Jersey City, New Jersey. Originally from Kenosha, Wisconsin."

"Why so far from home? I originally moved to be a student at Brown, my friends became more of my family, so when I dropped out, I stayed with them."

"Louisa, my birth mom, was 15 when she had me…I was placed for adoption, when I was three. Most people want to adopt babies, not toddlers. So I went into foster care. I was moved around from house to house with Maxwell…and when we were split because a family wanted only to foster one kid, I was, well, heartbroken. He was like my brother. Um…after that I kinda became a problem child…I was ten, and I stole, I snuck out, I smoked, I drank…I never had a foster family for long. About a year ago I was placed with the Jones family…they're nice I guess. Sent me to rehab school, broke me of a lot of my bad habits. They didn't stand for any of my shit. But I just never fit in. I'll only be in the foster system for another two years…I would rather not spend it in a pristine white prison…so, I left."

Mark stared at the young woman. She was no child, she had grown up long ago. She had lost a lot in her short 16 years of life. She was like Mimi almost. A younger form of the strong, determined woman that didn't let life lead her, but rather grabbed it by the balls and said this is how it is going to be.

Claire visibly was becoming uncomfortable with his stare. She fidgeted in her seat, and kept her hands moving. Her reprieve came in the form of the waiter.

"What can I get for you two?" He asked in mock cheerfulness.

"We're still deciding," Mark answered smoothly.

"Anything to drink?"

"Not now. Not for me," Claire said. Mark simply shook his head. They would stall until the rest of the bohemians got there.

**LINE**

Well, I am sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I tried to make it longer to make up for it. Please leave a review, if you want to flame this chapter, I would appreciate if you did it constructively. Don't simply say "This chapter sucks," please say why it was not up to standard.


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